


Don’t Ask Me Why

by LyingMonsters



Series: Aleatory-verse [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1960s, 1960s Music, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Berlin Wall, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Bad Flirting, Berlin (City), Berlin Wall, Cold War, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Historical, Inspired by Elvis Presley songs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-World War II, Resistance group, Slow Burn, street art
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-07-16 10:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyingMonsters/pseuds/LyingMonsters
Summary: Lukas Bondevik didn’t expect the one time he met with a Danish artist to lead anywhere. By all means, it shouldn’t have, but it’s 1961 and in divided Berlin, it’s hard not to see someone again.Inspired by the Elvis Presley song of the same name.





	1. Forelsket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not the kind of love I dream about  
> But it’s the kind that I can’t live without
> 
> -Don’t Ask Me Why

_October, 1961, East Berlin_

 

Lukas checked his watch again and flipped open the newspaper. The front page shouted WALL JUMPER ARRESTED. Another kid tried and failed to cross the wall.

‘Horrible, isn’t it?’

Lukas folded the page over and looked at the man who leaned against the brick wall beside him. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘Mathias Khøler,’ he said, setting down the can of paint he was carrying. Paint brushes stuck haphazardly out of the pockets of his long black coat, the strange sheen of things dyed one too many times. The coat demanded attention against the grey skies. He nodded to Lukas’ paper. ‘Are you done with that?’

‘No.’ Lukas slid the magazine into his pocket. Mathias laughed good-naturedly.

‘But it is horrible. The wall.’

Lukas shook his head. ‘Don’t talk about it.’

‘Isn’t it, though?’ Mathias was grinning, now. Lukas grimaced.

‘What are you, an informer?’ he asked.

‘No.’ Lukas flinched. Mathias suddenly sounded deadly serious. ‘I swear to you that I’m not.’

‘Alright, calm down.’ Lukas looked away. ‘I’m not, either.’

‘So you’ll help us out, then?’

Lukas gave him an incredulous look. Mathias raised an eyebrow at him expectantly.

‘Absolutely not,’ Lukas said.

‘Please. I’ll pay you. It’s a quick job.’

‘Are you asking for…’ Lukas recoiled. ‘I’m not-I’m not like that.’

‘What?’ Mathias ran a hand through his hair and flushed red. ‘Oh, god. Not like that. I need you to buy us cigarettes. And alcohol. Me and my friend got banned from the store.’

Lukas relaxed. Just a simple booze run. ‘How much?’

‘What?’

‘How much will you pay me,’ Lukas repeated. ‘I don’t work for free.’ Or ever, he wanted to add.

Mathias pulled out a crumpled handful of bills. ‘Enough.’

‘Numbers.’

‘Fifty or something.’ Mathias held out the paper. ‘Count, if you want.’

Lukas took the crumpled wad and thumbed through it. Small denominations, mostly. They seemed legitimate enough. He handed them back.

‘You’re sure they’re not counterfeit?’

‘At this point, what’s the difference?’ Mathias joked. ‘So, will you help?’

‘I’ll help anyone who hands a stranger seventy East marks on a whim,’ Lukas decided impulsively. He didn’t say that he’d help anyone who talked like they were in the West already. If they weren’t an informer, that is. ‘Providing that stranger gets me a ride to my work, seeing as that I’ll be missing the train for him,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘I have a motorcycle,’ Mathias offered. ‘Where’s this place of yours? S’long as it’s not on the other side of Berlin, I think I could drop you off.’ He grinned. ‘Costs extra to get you across the Wall.’

‘The film shop. In the East.’ Lukas ignored the nervous jump in his throat at the thought of crossing the barbed wire.

‘I know the place.’ Mathias stuck out his hand. Lukas took it, and they shook.

‘I’m Lukas Bondevik,’ Lukas introduced. Mathias squeezed his hand.

He’d left his paint when he ran around the corner, and Lukas discreetly placed his newspaper overtop it. Mathias wheeled his motorcycle around the corner a moment later, and Lukas admired the cycle.

‘Good machine,’ he said as Mathias bent down to pop the kickstand.

‘Yeah, she’s a real beauty.’ He patted the flank of the cycle. ‘Here, I got you the helmet.’ He held the battered headgear out. His leather driving gloves were stained with motor oil.

‘Don’t need it. I’m not a child.’

‘Damn good, too. Kids should be safe, and no offense, but we’re anything but.’ Lukas knew they looked towards the Wall at the same time.

‘They should,’ he replied sharply.

Mathias looked up from checking the engine. ‘You have one?’ he asked, unusually taciturn.

‘No. A little brother.’ Lukas coughed. ‘I’m not married or anything.’

‘Oh. Take good care of him,’ Mathias said. ‘Your kid brother.’

‘I try to.’

Mathias, seemingly satisfied, stood up and brushed off his hands. ‘Ready?’

‘Ready,’ Lukas said. He put on the helmet. Mathias pushed the paint into his hands and handed him back his newspaper.

‘Put my stuff in the saddlebag, I need two hands.’ He stopped and patted at his coat, bringing out the brushes and piling them in Lukas’ arms as well.

‘Where did you get all this?’ Lukas asked, dropping it into the stiff leather bag. Mathias hesitated.

‘Around.’

Lukas frowned. ‘You one of those types?’ he asked slowly.

‘Depends what type we’re talking about,’ he said. Lukas met his eyes. Every second standing here was a second they could be seen, or worse, heard.

‘An artist. The kind that’ll get in trouble.’

‘Your type?’

Lukas scoffed. His pulse was racing.

‘My- _type_ aren’t madmen.’

‘I’m not a madman,’ he said.

‘You’re an artist, and in this world, the two are synonymous.’

‘Lukas, west of the Wall, it’s an artist’s world.’ Mathias gunned the bike into life, and it growled loudly. ‘A real artist's world.’

Lukas could hear his heart pounding in his ears. The roar of the engine covered their words. ‘You’re one of those-those avant-garde artists, aren’t you?’ he whispered.

Mathias sighed, deep and heavy, his smile fading. ‘And if I was?’ he asked softly. ‘I don’t betray my friends. That means no telling names. Get on. We’ll be late.’

Lukas did.

0o0o0o

 It was fast.

Lukas had seen a blur of colour before he’d closed his eyes, but the nauseating feeling like forever going too high on swings remained. The feeling was pushing at his ribs and squeezing his stomach, fighting to get out, and Lukas was trying desperately not to be sick. He held on tighter to Mathias with numb fingertips and dropped his head onto a broad shoulder, the over-dyed coat smelling like old wood and paint.

‘How are you holding up?’ Mathias asked.

‘Fine,’ Lukas managed without begging for them to stop. ‘It’s fast.’

‘Old habit. Sorry.’ He slowed and patted at his side for something. Lukas kicked him in the back of the leg. His heart felt like it would jump out his throat, and the madman was _rummaging in his pocket_.

‘Eyes on the road!’ he screamed.

‘Right, right. Sorry. Can you get the radio phone from my pocket? Press six three four and tell Columbus you’re coming and that he has to pick someone up in the alley past the bricked-up shop and take them to work. And...just say ‘usual code word’.’

‘Columbus?’

‘I don’t tell my friend’s names.’ Mathias looked back at him, regret written over his face. ‘Sorry. I really don’t think you’re an informer, but me and my friends have our rules.’

‘We all do.’ Lukas pressed his lips together. Code words and fake names. Who was Mathias Khøler? ‘Mathias is your real name, though. Isn’t it?’

‘It is. Lukas.’ Mathias laughed and turned back to driving.

After a moment’s pause Lukas remembered what he was supposed to do. He forced his eyes open further and fished around for the radio, gripping it so tightly his fingers throbbed.

‘Columbus?’ he ground out.

The voice crackled back. ‘Kalmar?’

_Kalmar?_

‘I’m coming,’ Lukas started, and Mathias nodded encouragingly. ‘You need to pick someone up in the alley past the bricked-up shop and take them to work. Usual code word.’

‘I’ll be waiting,’ Columbus responded. Even through the radio, Lukas could hear his cheerful Spanish accent. He turned it off and carefully placed it back in Mathias’ pocket. 

The engine suddenly roared louder, and Lukas flattened himself against Mathias’ back with a choked sound. He was going to strangle Mathias with his stupid necktie once they got off this _death machine_. How on Earth they were allowed to people like this _idiotic artist_ was beyond him.  

‘Open your eyes, Lukas!’ he cried. The cycle roared again, and Lukas, against all his better judgement, squeezed his eyes open.

His better judgement must have abandoned him the second he started talking to Mathias Khøler. The city whipped by and the wind stung his eyes and it was a _thousand times worse_ seeing every bump and jostle of the bike, but Lukas didn’t have in in him to be scared.

‘ _This_ is living!’ Mathias screamed above the wind. Loathe if Lukas was to admit it, there was an exhilaration building up in the tapping of his heart against his ribs, in the prickling pain of his fingers next to the heat of the coat. Mathias was still whooping as they sped up.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he asked. Lukas considered the combination of fear and horrible sickness and exhilarating speed and found no words to describe it.

‘Everything,’ he said truthfully. ‘There’s a lot of everything-I can’t explain it.’

Mathias laughed, wild and bright against the gray buildings, and twisted to tap his chest, and Lukas only shrieked a little bit when he only held onto the handlebars with one hand. ‘See? You’re feeling it, you’re feeling it, aren’t you? It never gets old!’ he crowed. ‘This is where I belong. Astride my bike in the streets of Berlin, _flying_. Mankind may not be meant for the skies, but it has never stopped us from trying. Hell, I think we’ve tried a little bit harder to touch the stars simply because feathers didn’t grow from our backs as children.’

‘How do you know?’ Lukas teased. Maybe the fear of crashing on this stupid fast street cycle made him reckless.

‘Do people have wings, Lukas?’ Mathias smiled, blue eyes gleaming. ‘No, no need to answer. I know.’ He flung out his arms, laughter bouncing off the stone buildings. Lukas held on for the blinding dangerous second, gasping into the wind until Mathias grabbed the handlebars again.

‘So?’ he asked, breathless, too exhilarated to be scared.

‘In one way or another, we all do.’ Mathias kicked the bike into a higher gear. Lukas opened his eyes wider and grinned.

0o0o0o

Mathias finally swung off the bike in the lee of an old building. Lukas handed over the paint, feeling lightheaded, and the Dane lowered his voice.

‘Out this alley and right one block is a bar called the Roman that sells the brand of cigarettes the Red Army likes,’ he whispered. ‘You know the kind?’

‘Yes,’ Lukas said. Mathias’ face was inscrutable in the semi-darkness, but a pit was starting to grow in Lukas’ stomach, replacing the warmth of their ride.

‘Buy a few packages and the best beer you can get with this.’ Mathias pressed a folded clip of bills into his hand. ‘Lukas, listen to me. When you get out of the bar, go right. Two blocks and there will be a bricked-up store, you can’t miss it. Duck into the first alley after that, and Columbus will be there to take the stuff and bring you to your work. He’s a good man, trust him. Just say you’re Kalmar’s man. The code word is-’

He cut off abruptly and looked behind him, but it was all quiet. Lukas laughed awkwardly, and it echoed loudly off the bricks.

‘Kalmar. That’s you?’

‘Yeah.’ Mathias was still studying the walls.

Lukas couldn’t ignore his gut instinct. Mathias wasn’t an informer. That Lukas would bet on, even if he didn’t know why. However, he was starting to think that whatever Mathias was-because he _was_ something; this madman artist couldn’t _not_ be anything-was more dangerous and a lot more likely to get Lukas five years in a labour camp-or a bullet in his head.

Mathias leaned forward suddenly, and his lips brushed Lukas’ ear. Lukas stiffened.

‘Baroque. Like the art. That’s the word.’ Mathias pulled away and absentmindedly brushed his hair back into place. ‘Alright?’

‘Alright.’

Mathias frowned. ‘You look worried.’

‘It’s dangerous,’ Lukas admitted.

‘This city is full of that.’ Mathias sighed and ran a hand through his hair, flattening it. ‘Lukas, you don’t have to do this. I’ll give you a ride, even.’

‘No, I’m going.’ Lukas didn’t know what he felt anymore. ‘Stay safe.’

‘You too.’ Mathias stopped and dug in his pocket for a second, offering Lukas the crumpled bills. ‘This is yours.’

‘I don’t need it,’ Lukas said, waving it away. Mathias placed it in his palm and curled his fingers around it.

‘For Emil, then. Give him regards from Denmark.’

‘Denmark. Is that your homeland, Kalmar?’ Lukas smiled at him.

‘Copenhagen, if we’re being specific.’ Mathias smiled back, and the tangled exhilaration of their reckless ride through the city bloomed in Lukas’ chest again.

Mathias turned to his bike, and Lukas said the words that he didn’t know had been hovering on his tongue.

‘Will I see you again? After this?’

Mathias was still for a moment. ‘You shouldn’t want to see me again,’ he said finally. ‘It’s...dangerous.’

‘Well, this city is full of that.’ Lukas held out the helmet, and after a moment of hesitation, he took it. ‘You know where to find me, Kalmar. The film shop.’

‘Okay.’ Mathias’ face split into a grin. ‘I’m not promising anything, you hear me? But I’m not saying no, either.’

Lukas couldn’t stop his smile as he clumsily stuffed the crumpled bills into his pocket. ‘Until next time, Mathias.’

He grabbed Lukas’ hand suddenly, pulling off his driving gloves and pushing them into his hands. ‘Promise me you’ll take good care of Emil,’ he said, eyes serious and shining blue. Lukas slipped the gloves on slowly, flexing his fingers. They held the heat of his body. Mathias jammed his hands in his pockets and laughed. ‘And stay warm.’

‘I will,’ Lukas promised. He looked down to where his newspaper was sticking out of his pocket, faintly stained with motor grease. He held it out. ‘Here.’ Mathias looked at him for a second in shock, his eyebrows raised. Lukas shook it. ‘I don’t have all day.’

His face broke into a grin and he took it. ‘Thank you, Lukas.’

His hair fell in his eyes. Lukas turned, pushing away the lingering feelings of the ride. He could feel Mathias’ eyes on him as he walked into the brighter street. When he heard the quiet rumble of the engine, Lukas looked back, but the alley was empty.

0o0o0o

The bell jingled. Even though it was morning, the Roman was filled with loud, shouting, obviously drunk people, all tinted gold and smoky with the pale light and swaying with the crooning music. The bartender was arguing animatedly with someone at the bar. Lukas sat down at the only available seat and watched as the bartender slammed his fist on the table and the guy stormed out. He twisted to face Lukas.

‘Order?’ he asked, reaching for a cocktail shaker. Lukas was finally able to get a good look at his face, still flushed from shouting, with auburn eyes and unruly curls. He wondered how he kept so many patrons if he argued with the customers like that.

‘Cigarettes. Four packs and a bottle of that.’ Lukas pointed to what looked cheapest. The man pulled it down.

‘Eighty East marks.’

Damn. Lukas pointed at one of the cigarette packages. ‘Scratch one of those.’

The man studied him as he put it away. His nametag glinted in the light. Romano.

‘Buying for someone?’ he asked, pushing the pile across and holding out a hand for the money. Lukas counted out the change.

‘No,’ he lied.

‘You don’t look like you’d have all this to yourself.’ Romano flipped through the pile and locked it in the register. Lukas felt his pulse jump when the man looked back, intense and calculating.

‘Buying to share, if you must know.’ The bartender’s eyes dug into him. Fear always made him reckless. ‘My brother.’

’Brothers,’ Romano spat, mouth twisting. Lukas’ brow furrowed.

’Do you have a brother?’

Romano looked away. His auburn eyes were shadowed underneath, like he’d barely slept, and his face was hollow in the cheeks. ‘No.’

Lukas nodded slowly. Something about Romano felt off to him, like he was the complete opposite of Mathias. ’Thank you.’

Romano dropped his gaze to the bar. He crumpled up the rag in his hands. ‘Thanks for the service,’ he mumbled.

Lukas gathered his things and left, glad to be out.

0o0o0o

Columbus lay across the hood of his car, absentmindedly sucking on a lollipop and trying to take a picture of the sky. Lukas waited until he was done. Columbus took his picture and fit the camera back into it’s case before even glancing at him. Lukas stopped dead.

‘Antonio?’

Antonio rolled off the hood to face him, slipping the camera back around his neck. He pulled the stick out of his mouth and stopped, disbelief written over his face. ‘Kalmar’s man is you?’ he asked.

‘Small world.’ Lukas looked down at his armful of alcohol and cigarettes. ‘Baroque,’ he muttered.

‘Yeah, you’re his.’ Antonio rubbed a bit of dust from the red paint of his car. ‘Small half of our city.’

‘I thought you were a photographer.’ Lukas didn’t know what to say to tie the photographer who regularly visited his shop to the chaotic artistry of Mathias. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

‘I am.’ Antonio laughed tiredly, looking back at the sky. Lukas followed his gaze to the clouds framed between the buildings. ‘This is Berlin, Lukas. We aren’t all as we seem.’

‘No. Maybe just me.’ Lukas didn’t like the idea of just being Lukas Bondevik as much in the face of Mathias nicknamed Kalmar with so many secrets like paint.

‘That’s the stuff?’ Antonio interrupted his thoughts. Lukas held out what he’d bought. Antonio took it, rocking uncertainly back and forth on his heels. ‘This is from the Roman?’

‘Yes.’

A shadow flickered over Antonio’s face. ‘You got it from Romano?’

‘The bartender? I did.’ Lukas frowned. ‘Should I have gotten it from someone else?’

‘No, no. He runs the bar anyways.’ Antonio smiled, but it looked strained.

‘Do you know him?’ Lukas pressed.

‘Yes.’ Antonio turned abruptly and set the package in the trunk. He closed it with a snap and stayed motionless, shoulders hunched. ‘I guess you could say he’s the one who banned us.’

Lukas waited until Antonio turned back around and slipped into the driver’s seat to silently get in the passenger’s door. Antonio pressed the Corvette into life and set off.

0o0o0o

Antonio let him off behind his shop. Lukas went about the motions of opening until he realized he was still waiting.

‘Are you going to be the first customer or something?’ he asked bluntly, flipping his sign to OPEN. Antonio laughed, twisting the leather strap of his camera between his fingers.

‘Lukas, it might be best if you forget that I’m associated with anything like…’ He waved ambiguously, and Lukas’ suspicions settled more concretely. ‘And please don’t tell anyone.’

‘I won’t.’ Lukas fiddled with an empty film canister. ‘Antonio, I won’t tell anyone about what happened, but it might be best if you left now.’

‘Of course.’ Relief broke on his face, and he waved cheerfully as he left. Lukas watched his car until it turned the corner and groaned, rubbing his temples. With a start, he realized he was still wearing Mathias’ driving gloves, and pulled them off. After a moment of indecision, he stuffed them in his pocket. They weighed on his hip, a reminder that the morning hadn’t been a strange dream, no matter how much he now wanted it to be.

‘What have I gotten myself into?’ he asked himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forelsket (Norwegian): the euphoria of falling in love with someone
> 
> The motorcycle in this chapter is a DKW RT 125  
> The car mentioned is a 1953 Chevy Corvette in red
> 
> :: Old, stained cherry wood


	2. Chapter Two

Lukas came home and set the bundle of food he'd bought on the counter. The lights were off again, no matter how much he fiddled with the light switch.

'Where'd you get the food?'

'Hello, Emil,' Lukas said, pointedly ignoring him. Emil put down his pencil. His eyes were bleary from working equations in the dark.

'Where did you get this, Lukas?' he asked again, getting up. His hands were thin and the knuckles pushed sharply against the skin. Lukas couldn't miss the way his eyes darted to the packages. 'How much did it cost?'

'Don't worry about that. Aren't you glad it's here at all?' Lukas leaned over to adjust his scarf. 'How is your work going?'

Emil pushed his hands away. 'Lukas. Where did you get it?' His eyes had the hungry, desperate look that Lukas hated and feared so much. 'We don't have enough-'

'I said not to worry.' He pushed past Emil in the cramped apartment and picked up his calculations. 'You forgot to carry the one here. Make sure you're prepared for the entrance exam.'

'Lukas, stop it.' He sounded defeated. Emil hated talking about the exams for college, but it was all Lukas could do.

'Are you?' he pushed.

'Yes. I have to be by now.'

He let him take the old workbook and place it back on the shelf. They caught each other's gazes in the middle. His brother's face was thinner and paler than before, and his clothes sat awkwardly on his newly taller frame. Lukas' heart tightened painfully. No, he didn't regret what he'd done for Mathias, but he wished it was all easier.

'If you're sure,' he said softly. Emil broke their gaze first, and retreated to the battered couch to look over his work. Lukas lit the stove and started cooking.

Emil didn't talk to him at all during dinner. Lukas wasn't foolish enough to push the issue, and let him stay at the table when they were done, plates scraped clean. When he got up to put the rest of the food in the pantry, Emil grabbed his arm.

'You've got gloves in your pocket.'

Mathias' driving gloves. Lukas' heart sped up-how could he have forgotten?-but he tried to keep his voice steady.

'Do you want them?'

Emil stared at him for a long moment before letting go. Lukas tucked the gloves further into his pocket and put the food away. Emil was just a child still, and he looked better than he had in weeks when he had enough to eat. When he was drifting off to sleep, clutching his stuffed puffin, Lukas made made up his mind.

He would go back to Mathias, even if he might be mad, and an artist, and it might cost him everything. It would be worth it. It had to be worth it, for Emil.

He quietly slipped out the door.

0o0o0o

Lukas had realized shortly into his dangerous and potentially fatal mission to find a single street artist in Berlin that he knew nothing about Mathias. Night had fallen, and the Wall guards leered at him as he passed. Lukas despised them.

The only lead he had was the bar. Mathias and Antonio had been banned, according to him, but maybe people there still knew them. It was a start, and so Lukas was standing under the dark wooden sign, steeling his resolve before he entered.

The place was full, but not to bursting. It was still early, and the late shift of construction workers and possibly even guards wouldn't have arrived yet. The people here were tired and sleepy and barely muttering. The strangest thing, Lukas found, was that there was no music playing. An empty silence hung around the place.

His footsteps seemed loud on the weathered wood floor as he sat down at the bar. Romano scowled, but his mouth was slack and face flushed with the evidence of alcohol and exhaustion.

'Back again?' he asked, but there was no real venom in it. Lukas nodded and shifted closer. He wished there was music. It felt like everyone in the bar could be listening, and any one of them could be an informant for the Stasi.

'I want to know something about someone.'

Romano raised a disdainful eyebrow. 'Are you thinking of getting into the business with _them?_ '

The Stasi. Lukas curled his lip. 'Of course not.'

'Of course not,' Romano echoed, but his grip tightened on the glass in his hands. He looked down and set it on the bar. 'Buy something first.'

Lukas took something simple, and when Romano turned back around, leaned forward and lowered his voice. 'I want to know about someone who used to come here.'

Romano's knuckles whitened on his cloth, and Lukas thought he saw a flash of genuine fear in his eyes. 'If Braginsky sent-if you're looking for that fucking Wall guard again, I told you, I don't know anything.'

'I'm looking for an artist,' Lukas whispered into to heavy, still air. 'His name is Mathias.'

Romano's ears went red, and his mouth began to twist into a grimace. Lukas remembered Antonio, and how he'd seemed to know Romano.

'He works with Antonio-?'

Romano slammed his hands on the bar loud enough to wake the two people beside them. Lukas' pulse jumped, his mouth suddenly dry, every muscle locked in fear. He didn't know what to do. Romano looked like he was ready to come to blows.

'Get out,' he snarled. 'I fucking told him not to come back. I told all of them.'

'Hold on-' Lukas backpedaled. What had he done wrong?

'Get out!' Romano shouted, and then his voice dropped to a chilling, quiet emptiness. He pointed out the door. 'If I see you in here again, I will call the police.'

Lukas carefully set down his untouched glass and backed away. Some people were looking blurrily up, but he wasn't scared of them. He was scared of the fury and pain in Romano's eyes.

He started walking again, unsure of himself, stumbling through the dark streets. He wasn't sure where he was going, or what he wanted to do. The expression on Romano's face before he'd turned away was twisted and hurting, exactly how Antonio's had been. For some reason, he hurt along with them.

'Lukas!'

Lukas only roused in time to feel a heavy set of arms flung around him, and Mathias' blond hair tickling his nose. He smelled like paint and asphalt and motor oil, and Lukas let himself be held for a single, soaring moment before he removed the hands from his shoulders.

Mathias Khøler stood in front of him, hair wind-tossed and standing up off his forehead in even wilder spikes.

'What are you doing, Lukas?' he asked in a hush, trying to force a smile that kept breaking with relief. Lukas was nearly limp with relief over seeing him, but forced his smile down. 'Walkin' right up to the Wall? Thought you were smarter than that.'

'I'm not the stupid one here,' Lukas cracked, and when Mathias' worried, strained expression widened into a real grin, he-he couldn't stop looking.

'Really, though. What are you doing here?'

Lukas was reluctant to admit. 'I...was just banned from the Roman.'

Mathias' face fell. 'What did you do?'

'I just mentioned Antonio,' he said, but he knew that between them, it wasn't a simple thing. Mathias winced.

'Sorry, I should have warned you or something.'

'I can't pick up your cigarettes anymore,' Lukas said, more than half-seriously, but his stomach felt full of lead. A booze run had probably been his least dangerous way to get money, and now he couldn't do that. Mathias waved it off.

'Berwald doesn't take cigs much anymore, don't worry.' He absentmindedly brushed at the concrete dust on Lukas' shoulder before looking up. 'Why were you wanderin' about to go see Romano, anyways?'

'I thought he might know where you were.' Lukas clenched his hands into fists, trying to work out how to say the next sentence. 'I would prefer not to get involved with you-with any of whatever you're doing, Mathias.'

'Because I'm a madman?' Mathias offered, mouth tipping up towards a small smile. Lukas couldn't look at him-it made his chest feel wrong and right, as if he were back on the motorcycle.

'Because you're doing something you could be jailed for. Don't tell me what it is, because I don't want to know. But I am willing to...help.'

Mathias nodded slowly, realization dawning in his eyes. 'Yeah, I get it. Smart not to get too attached to artists here. If you're just willing to run a few plans, help us get a few things…' He grinned. 'It'll all work out.'

'I'm only doing this for my brother,' Lukas warned. His chest felt tight. Mathias was so earnest about everything he did, and it made Lukas feel dishonest. It had to be this way, though, to balance Emil and safety with everything Mathias was offering.

'I know. And I promise, we'll pay you. We take care of our own.' He held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, thinking of the danger that lay ahead, Lukas shook. Mathias looked down at their joined hands. 'I'm glad you like the gloves. You keeping warm?'

'They're good quality.' Lukas let go. He nodded proudly.

'Of course they are. I got them from the West side, back when we were still allowed.' The reminder of the Wall was unwelcome, and Mathias coughed. 'You want to go out and get a drink? Since we kind of led to you getting kicked out of Romano's and all.'

Emil was at home, and Lukas should refuse this. It would break the unsure rules of whatever tentative deal they had made. But Mathias was holding out his hands again, an invitation to some secret world, and-and Lukas needed something exhilarating.

He nodded. Mathias whooped and pulled him along. His hair was blazed bright by the moonlight.

0o0o0o

The headquarters, because Lukas had a feeling that's where they were, was much smaller than the Roman. People sat in clusters around the hole-in-the-wall room, talking, laughing, singing. When Mathias came in, people turned, and some even applauded.

'Who've you got there, Kalmar?' someone cried jovially.

'Don't worry,' Mathias called, sliding into the bar. 'What do you take?'

'I don't drink much.'

'Then you're missing out. Not by much, since all we've got is shitty cheap beer and vodka, but…' Mathias turned his glass morosely. 'We used to have a good stock, but we're not allowed to Romano's place anymore and _Gilbert_ ended up being a lying turncoat _son of a bitch_.' He took a drink. Lukas was taken aback by the sudden venom in his tone, and then again when he turned back to normal. 'You're really not missing much. Best thing here is the company.'

'Is this your…' Lukas gestured awkwardly. 'Are they friends of you and Antonio?'

'Yes. If I was trying to find a group of people who hated the Wall and everyone who'd put it up and wanted to pull it down...this would be the place I'd find them. I can't say more, of course.' Mathias grinned over the edge of the glass. Lukas gripped the edge of the mahogany to ground himself. He had known Mathias Khøler was _someone_ , but this-speaking so openly and dangerously about the Wall-this was more than he'd ever expected.

'Do you know how many laws those people would be breaking?' he asked, trying to sound casual.

Mathias laughed. 'We've all got our death warrants signed in advance, trust me.'

Lukas didn't like the way he spoke of so openly courting death. The idea of being caught and staring down the black barrel of a gun was horrible. Mathias noticed.

'You're safe,' he said. 'As long as you just keep to the sidelines. Don't worry.'

Lukas thought it was the same kind of reassurance not to worry that he'd told Emil. Mathias exhaled a long breath, trying to explain.

'We know it's dangerous. All of us are here by choice. We know that we can lose our lives, and most of us don't have girls and family to go back to.'

'Do you?' He knew it was not the point of the conversation, but the question dug into him with sharp barbs.

Mathias shrugged. 'No. Had one a few years back and we didn't last long. Why?'

'No reason.' Lukas somehow felt like he was lying, but not sure how. His face was hot. 'I'll have a drink, actually.'

Mathias chuckled and passed him a bottle. 'So, tell me more about yourself. You work in the film shop. What about your kid brother?'

'He's still studying. I'd like him to get into a better...college.'

'A better life.' He hummed wistfully. 'Nothing wrong with that. Do you ever wonder what a better life would have been like for us? A life without the war. Without the Wall.' Something about that sort of dream felt treasonous, dangerous, and Lukas hated that it did. Mathias nodded to the door, eyes half-lidded as he motioned for another drink, and his head bobbed. 'I'd have been an architect.'

Mathias as an architect. The more Lukas looked at him, the more he could see it. His throat felt thick.

'That would have been nice.'

Mathias flashed him a crooked grin. 'Now, don't get me dreaming 'bout that too much. The wars happened. The Wall happened. And now we have to live. No use spending your days thinking of what could have been if we were all less stupid and proud of ourselves.'

Emil as whatever he would have liked. Lukas being something else, which was a whole world that scared him as much as it lured him. Just like Mathias. This whole conversation was straying too close to things it was easier to not think about.

'Mathias-'

'You've gotta call me Kalmar here,' Mathias interrupted.

'Why?'

'It's supposed to be so if one of us is caught, we don't know real names. Of course, some get out.' He sat up and pointed over to a small group of people sitting by the dusty window. 'You already know Columbus. He was here even before the Wall really went up. Came all the time with his friends, this French poet and...and Gilbert.' Anger flickered over his face again before he pushed it away. 'Gilbert brought this Hungarian woman, she was a hit. We used to get together and make a bit of trouble for the Soviets.'

'Who's Gilbert?' Lukas had the feeling he would regret the question. Mathias' mouth twisted.

'We called him Eagle, you know. He was always the best of all of us at this. He'd fuck with their transports, get in a fight with some officers, and steal their weapons all in one night. Plus, he brought really good beer. A lot of people thought he should be leader, me included. But people started...going missing. People he knew the names of. And then he goes, too, vanishes for two months and we _mourn him_ , because we thought he was dead. Taken up by the bastards of the Stasi. But he comes back one day, all suited up in a _fucking Soviet guard uniform_ , and tells us that we need to get out because his city is getting divided into East and West. And he said he-he sold people out to find that out. He expected us to think that was okay.'

Mathias' jaw trembled, and he finished his glass and slammed it on the bar. 'You never- _never_ -betray people like that. I should have killed him right then and there. Went after him with a broken bottle and all, nearly got his eye.'

'You knew?' Lukas asked, reeling. 'But you're still here.'

Mathias shook his head grimly, eyes glittering. 'Those of us who stayed are the ones who are tearing down the Wall with our bare hands. And when I do, I'm going to find Gilbert Beilschmidt in the rubble of his world and finish off that scar I started.‘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The resistance group is inspired by the Swords To Ploughshares movement.
> 
> :: The roar of a stadium before dark


End file.
